


promise me

by ghostsarentreal



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Artist Yamaguchi Tadashi, Baking, Beaches, Bittersweet Ending, Captain Yamaguchi Tadashi, Death, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, I keep coming back to edit this at like 3 am, Light Swearing, M/M, Musician Tsukishima Kei
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:41:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26497309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostsarentreal/pseuds/ghostsarentreal
Summary: The patient on the bed turned towards him and blinked. “You want to… draw me?”Fuck. “Uh, nevermind, I’m sorry. It’s just, I don’t know! You’re something new and I haven’t drawn people much before so I thought it might be a good inspiration? Or at least a place to start?”Yamaguchi was about to get up and leave the room, maybe try his luck at drawing a vending machine or a fake plant, when he heard a voice speak up.“I don’t care. You can draw me if you want.”
Relationships: Tsukishima Kei & Yamaguchi Tadashi, Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Comments: 91
Kudos: 255





	promise me

**Author's Note:**

> i would like to thank ribskyuu for annoying me so much i squeezed this bullshit out in nine days. stream tsukiyama ribs. also yes i know they seem ooc, i don't like what im doing either.

Tsukishima Kei has been dying since he was born, and he was 100% ok with that. 

It’s not like he could do anything to fix it. The doctors had tried, they tried for 18 years. Finally, they joined Tsukishima and gave up on his life. He was much more content waiting out his life while watching TV than having tests run on him all the time anyway. 

It’s not like he would be missing out on much. His life was pretty uneventful anyways. He spent his entire life in and out of the hospital and his house. His mother had passed, his brother had to move away from college (after Tsukishima practically begged him to stop ruining his life just because his sibling was sick) and he didn’t have any friends anyways. He hadn’t interacted with a person their own age since he was 5. It was a lonely life, for sure, but you can’t do much better than no earthly attachments if you’re dying. 

So while Tsukishima Kei wasn’t exactly looking forward to death, he didn’t see what the big deal was. He had been preparing for it his whole life anyways. What was the point? 

__________________

  
  


Yamaguchi Tadashi hated hospitals. 

Ever since he was a kid, he was there all the time. He didn’t even get sick a lot. Benefits of having a mom in healthcare, he supposed. But his mom worked there and he would spend most of his time after school waiting for her to finish her shift. He would do homework or chat with some of the staff. He would even try to help around a bit, god knows how much they were being overworked. He still hated them though. They smelled sterile, like antiseptic and Windex. It was usually dreary and sad, with people coming in and out with some kind of injury or disease. Everyone had an aura of death around them, and it freaked Yamaguchi out. The only place he really stayed in was his mom’s office area. He usually sat in a corner there and drew until it was time to go. 

Once he got older, he was allowed to walk home on his own and wait for her to come home. But today, his house was getting fumigated and he didn’t have the keys to his mom’s friend's house (that was where he was staying.) It was supposed to be a quick stop, just grab the keys and go. But this time, her office was occupied. Some meetings or whatever. She had stopped Yamaguchi before he could even enter her room. 

“But where am I supposed to go, then?” he asked.

“I don’t know, sweetie. Just-” she sighed and pulled a hand through her hair, “- find an empty room or something. We have a few in the second wing.” 

Then she shut the door, and Yamaguchi was left alone, in the middle of a hallway, with his backpack, sketchbook, and no place to go. 

If there was one part of hospitals Yamaguchi hated the most, it was the rooms. They were the coldest part of the place, just a plain bed, equipment, and someone going through pain. He hated being anywhere near them. He walked through the hallway and stared at the menacing doors, too scared to open any of them. 

One of the doors was slightly open. Yamaguchi frowned and turned to close it when he looked inside. 

This room was… surprisingly nice. 

The bed was undone, with pages of math sprinkled around it. There was a table on the side with a mug, a dinosaur lamp (Yamaguchi cackled at that) and a laptop opened up to some TV show. A pair of headphones were also lying on the table, attached to a small iPod. Music was playing softly from the headphones. Out of curiosity, Yamaguchi crept inside and pressed the headphones to his ears. 

“What the hell are you doing?”

Oh no. 

Yamaguchi jumped, nearly dropping the headphones on the ground (which would have been really unfortunate, they looked expensive.) “Uh, sorry?”

The first thing Yamaguchi thought about the person in front of him was, _Wow, he's tall_. He was nearly a head taller than Yamaguchi and probably would have gone taller if he wasn’t using a crutch for support. 

The second thing he thought was that the boy looked terrifying. His expression was completely void of emotion, and his voice was curt and sharp like he was trying to use his words as a knife. The fact that he was so tall wasn’t helping him look any more friendly, either. 

The scary kid didn’t look impressed by Yamaguchi’s feeble apology. “You’re not supposed to be in here. Why are you in my room?” 

It was a miracle Yamaguchi could even form a coherent sentence. “My mom. Yeah, my mom, she works here. I’m her son.” He winced at himself. “I was supposed to wait for her but I don’t like waiting outside with everyone else, so she told me to find an empty room to wait in. I just thought this room was empty, that’s all.”

After what felt like decades of dead silence, the kid shrugged. “Whatever. You can stay here for a while. Until you have to leave. Just don’t disturb me or whatever.”

With that said, the mystery patient slipped his headphones on and went back to his homework. 

Yamaguchi let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. He situated himself on the floor and tapped idly at his sketchpad. 

He found himself looking back up at the resident of the room. He was hunched over his homework, with blond bangs grazing over his eyes and glasses slipping off his nose. He was scribbling something lightly on the paper with a bored expression on his face. Yamaguchi suppressed a laugh when he scrunched up his nose to fix the glasses back into place. 

Yamaguchi wasn’t a creep. He just loved studying things. It was wonderful to really look at something and pick it apart piece by piece, then transcribe it onto paper using pencil and charcoal. It grounded him to the earth, made him feel like he could understand the unknown. Staring at the person lazily filling in math problems, Yamaguchi felt the opposite of how he usually felt picking apart something. If anything, the piece became even more twisted and shattered in his hands. 

“What are you looking at?”

A sharp voice brought him back to reality. 

“Oh, sorry. I guess I just zoned out.”

“You apologize too much.”

“Sor- wait. Nevermind.”

A small smile cracked across the patient's face. “What are you even doing down there? You look ridiculous.”

Yamaguchi ignored the last sentence and looked down at his pad. “Well, I’m trying to draw something.”

“Trying?”

“I have no clue what to draw.”

The boy put his pencil down on top of the math homework and shrugged. “Just draw something around the room. Doesn’t have to be good or anything. Just think of it as a warmup.” 

“A warmup?” 

Yamaguchi didn’t get an answerback, but even if he did, he probably wouldn’t have heard it. He was used to drawing warmups, drawing small objects from memory, filling his pad with little doodles that were supposed to get his creative juices flowing. He had tried the stupid warmups. They still didn’t help. He still needed something to draw. But he had no inspiration whatsoever. 

Well… almost no inspiration. 

Yamaguchi wasn’t a very bold person. Quite the opposite, actually. He had always been bullied in school and didn’t even have proper friends until joining the volleyball club at his high school. Even there, he preferred to stay in the shadows. He didn’t speak much in school, even in casual conversations with his friends. He certainly never asked any of his friends if he could draw them. 

So what the hell was he doing now?

The patient on the bed turned towards him and blinked. “You want to… draw me?”

Fuck. “Uh, nevermind, I’m sorry. It’s just, I don’t know! You’re something new and I haven’t drawn people much before so I thought it might be a good inspiration? Or at least a place to start?”

Of all the people to ask. Why did it have to be an intimidating hospital patient? Why couldn’t he have just asked Hinata or anyone who didn’t look like they could break every bone in the human body while naming them?

Yamaguchi was about to get up and leave the room, maybe try his luck at drawing a vending machine or a fake plant, when he heard a voice speak up. 

“I don’t care. You can draw me if you want.” And to show his point, he moved his papers around and slid to the far side of the bed, leaving Yamaguchi enough room to sit. 

Oh. Well, he guessed this was happening.

Yamaguchi sat awkwardly on the bed and held his sketchpad up. The boy didn’t seem to pay much attention, he had turned back to his math homework. Yamaguchi peered over to see the name written on top in a neat font. 

“Tsukishima Kei?”

The boy, Tsukishima, looked up at him and arched an eyebrow. Yamaguchi flushed. “Sorry, I just read it off your paper. I’m Yamaguchi Tadashi.” He held a hand out to shake. Tsukishima stared at it before taking it and shaking softly. 

“So, why are you doing homework? Are you homeschooled or something? I didn’t think anyone on this wing went to school.”

Tsukishima stared at him blankly before looking back down. “Do you ever shut up? I thought you were going to draw.”

Yamaguchi formed a small “o” with his mouth, and curled away, turning his attention to his sketchpad. The room was uncomfortably quiet for a little while. 

“I’m not.” Tsukishima had said after a few minutes. 

Yamaguchi looked up. “I’m not what?”

“I’m not homeschooled. I was, but I dropped out last year. Didn’t see the point. I just do this to pass the time.”

There was a lot to unpack there, but Yamaguchi didn’t feel like pressing his luck any further today. He wrinkled his nose. “You do math for fun?”

“Not for fun, just to pass the time.”

“What’s the difference?”

Tsukishima opened his mouth to answer, and then closed it. “Huh. I don’t know.” 

Yamaguchi frowned and started shading in his drawing. “Still. There are probably better things to do to pass time than math.”

Tsukishima snorted. “Oh really? Like what?”

“Watch a show?”

“Watched everything good on every streaming site.”

“Read a book?”

“Practically exhausted the library at this point.”

“Draw something?”

“Just because you’re ‘artistic’ (Yamaguchi was not enjoying the air quotes around “artistic”) doesn’t mean everyone else is.”

“Take a walk? Go hang out outside?”

Tsukishima paused then shifted awkwardly around the bed. “I don’t go outside.”

“Why not? There’s so much to do in the small area around here. You could probably visit the park, try some sweets at the bakery. My house is even close to here. And it’s close enough for any of the patients to visit, so it’s not like you would get in any trouble.”

Yamaguchi didn’t like the sad silence coming from Tsukishima. It reminded him too much of his mom’s older patients. Sick, tired, resigned. Tsukishima was young. He was sharp. He was elegant. He shouldn’t have been this stoic. 

“I just don’t like going outside. There’s no point, anyways. I’ll be dead soon enough.”

Oh. He guessed it made sense, an a cynically twisted way. 

Yamaguchi found himself staring at the boy again. He traced his features across the pad with a pencil, looking up every so often to compare the drawing and the real person. The feeble sketch didn’t encompass half of his looks. No amount of shading could capture his glazed expression, or his indifferent frown, or the sunken bags under his eyes. 

Yamaguchi had never met this boy in his life. They weren’t friends. They barely even talked in the small amount of time Yamaguchi was in his room. But he knew. He knew that Tsukishima didn’t deserve to be kept away from the world as beautiful as him. 

“Tadashi?”

He looked up towards the door, where his mom was standing. She waved at him slightly, beckoning him to come over. 

Yamaguchi turned to Tsukishima. “So. I have to leave now.”

Tsukishima didn’t look up. “Ok.” 

Yamaguchi didn’t move from his spot on the bed. He inhaled sharply before letting out his next sentence in one breath. “Can I come back tomorrow?”

Tsukishima snapped up at him. “Can you- what?”

Yamaguchi felt his face heat up, but he kept going. “It’s just- I’m not finished. With the drawing. So could I come back? And finish it?”

Tsukishima stayed quiet and Yamaguchi sighed. He didn’t know what he was expecting. Of course he wouldn’t be okay with Yamaguchi visiting again. Even if Tsukishima wasn’t on some kind of “outside world” detox, Yamaguchi was annoying, asked a lot of questions, and probably just disturbed him a lot.

“It’s fine. Forget I asked.”

Yamaguchi shoved his pad into his backpack and slung it over his shoulder, making his way to the door.

“Wait.”

He turned around, and Tsukishima was looking up at him. His hands were shoved inside his hoodie pocket, and he mumbled something barely audible. 

“You can come back tomorrow. If you want.”

“Oh.” Yamaguchi nodded. “Then, see you tomorrow, I guess.”

“Yeah, see you tomorrow.”

___

“Who was that, in the room?” Yamaguchi’s mom asked him as they walked home. 

Yamaguchi shrugged. “Nobody. Just some guy.”

___

“What _is_ that?”

“Hm?” Tsukishima looked up from his laptop. Yamaguchi was no longer hovering over his sketchpad. He was pointing to something resting at the corner of Tsukishima’s room. 

Yamaguchi had been coming to Tsukishima’s room after school for about a week now. Before, he’d awkwardly stammer through a hello and they’d sit on opposite sides of the room, Yamaguchi drawing and Tsukishima doing something on his computer. Slowly, they got comfortable enough with making conversation. Yamaguchi would talk about his friends on the volleyball team, which made Tsukishima cackle. 

_“You’re on a sports team?” Tsukishima had laughed. Yamaguchi’s face burned._

_“Hey! I am an excellent server.” Yamaguchi was a mediocre server at best, but the way Tsukishima was laughing at him made him overcompensate a bit._

_Honestly, it was a wonder why he still visited the rude boy._

_“Yeah, I bet. You look like a real jock.”_

_“Oh, go do your math homework.”_

_“Shut up, Yamaguchi.” Tsukishima had replied after sobering up. “I just can’t believe you could make friends with a bunch of jocks.”_

_“Well I made friends with you, and that seems like it should be humanly impossible. So I guess that isn’t too far of a stretch.”_

_Tsukishima didn’t reply, just glared at him and put his headphones in._

Yamaguchi had discovered that Tsukishima was a lot meaner than he looked, which was saying something considering he looked like the most stereotypical highschool bully ever. His lips would curl into a sneer every time he talked (read: made fun of) about people from his old school. He wasn’t nearly as mean to Yamaguchi, but he was still pretty damn blunt. Again, Yamaguchi wondered why he even came back day after day. 

Was he just lonely? Did he pity the boy?

Tsukishima looked up from his iPod and sighed. His hair was slightly tousled and his lips were downturned. His glasses were slipping from being hunched over his iPod all day, so he straightened them.

Right. Because he was a perfect art model. 

“That’s my guitar. I haven’t played it in ages.” Tsukishima got up from his bed and picked up the guitar. He examined it for a while. “It used to be my brothers. He gave it to me when he went to college. He used to teach me songs on it.” He looked back at Yamaguchi’s gaping expression. “What? Have you never seen a guitar in your life?” 

At that point, Yamaguchi realized that it was his turn to speak. “No, I just- I didn’t expect that from you.”  
  
Tsukishima sat back on the bed, arms folded over the guitar. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You know. You don’t seem like a musical guy.” Yamaguchi felt the hole he was digging himself in grow deeper and deeper. 

“I literally have headphones in all the time. What do you think I listen to? Whale sounds?”

“I just thought you listened to boring podcasts or something. Or you just put them in so I wouldn’t bother you.” 

Tsukishima thought over his answer for a second. “Yeah. I guess I’ve done that a couple of times.”

“Hey!”

Tsukishima laughed at him and absently fiddled with the strings on the guitar. Yamaguchi wanted to commit the whole scene to memory so he could draw it later. 

“You said you used to play? Can you play a song for me?” 

Tsukishima stopped strumming and looked up at him. For a minute, Yamaguchi thought his face softened, just for a bit. 

“Absolutely not.”

“Come on! Why not!” Yamaguchi pouted. He watched as Tsukishima put the guitar away. 

“I don’t play anymore. Remember?” He groaned and flopped back on the bed, plugging his headphones back in. “How long are you gonna take to finish that drawing, by the way? It’s been like a week.”

Yamaguchi looked sheepishly at the unfinished drawing. “Hey, this is a lot harder than it looks. I’d like to see you try this.” 

No response came. “At least, I’ll show you when I’m done with it.”

Tsukishima snorted as he swiped through the iPod. “I really don’t care.”

God, what an asshole. 

Much to Tsukishima’s surprise, Yamaguchi flopped down on the bed next to him. “At least show me what kind of music you like.”

“No. Why would I do that?” 

Yamaguchi shrugged. “Uh, maybe it’ll spark my inspiration. So I can finish this drawing of you faster.”

Tsukishima thought it through and flipped one of the earpieces on his headphones over. Yamaguchi leaned in closer to press his ear against it. 

“Hey, this is an English song!” he gasped. He turned around to look at Tsukishima, who was staring up at the ceiling with a strangely serene look on his face. Yamaguchi committed this pose to memory as well. 

“Yeah, I started listening to a lot more music since I got admitted here full time. Decided to try some foreign songs. I don’t know many English artists though.” Tsukishima hummed softly to the music. 

Yamaguchi was having so much fun at the hospital, he almost forgot why he was here in the first place. Why Tsukishima was here in the first place. He was sick. On the verge of dying. He looked over at Tsukishima, who was absently mouthing the words of the new song that was being played on the iPod. He looked much too full of life for that to be true. 

Tsukishima must have been aware that he was being watched, because he turned around slowly to face Yamaguchi. If Yamaguchi wasn’t so dense, he might have noticed the tinge of red dusting Tsukishima’s face. 

“Well? What are you doing? Draw.”

So Yamaguchi nodded, picked up his pad, and drew. 

___

The next day, Yamaguchi didn’t take his sketchbook out immediately after entering the room. He walked up to Tsukishima’s desk, where he was sitting, and reached for his iPod. 

“Can I show you something for a second?” he managed to say. 

Tsukishima was confused, but he handed Yamaguchi the iPod. Yamaguchi tapped a few buttons on it before reaching a hand out to pull Tsukishima up. Still confused, he grabbed the hand and let Yamaguchi lead him to the bed. They both sat down, Tsukishima watching Yamaguchi plug in a pair of headphones and hand it to him. Tsukishima put the headphones on, and his eyes widened.  
  
“Are these-”

“Some English songs. From a few of my favorite artists. My friends recommended a couple of songs as well. I know you wanted to listen to some more or something-” Yamaguchi was rambling now, “-but if you don’t want to, that’s fine! I just thought you might like it but I can kind of see how this might be weird now so-” 

“Shut up, Yamaguchi.” Tsukishima flopped back down on the bed and offered Yamaguchi one side of the headphones again. 

“Sorry, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi mumbled, and the sound of the music that filled his ears after accepting the headphones drowned out Tsukishima’s indignant sputter as his new nickname. 

___

“Who gave you that lamp?” Yamaguchi asked. 

Today, Tsukishima wasn’t on his laptop. He was resting when Yamaguchi got there. His eyes were half shut and his skin was much paler than usual. Yamaguchi was about to leave after seeing him like that, but Tsukishima insisted that he stayed. So Yamaguchi sat down next to him and started sketching something. Music from Yamaguchi (and Tsukishima’s) playlist played quietly around the room. 

Yamaguchi’s attention had been drawn to the dinosaur lamp on Tsukishima’s desk. He noticed it when he first came into the room on accident, but he never questioned why Tsukishima would own such an uncharacteristically cute lamp. 

“Why?” Tsukishima snorted. “Are you going to draw it?”

“Maybe!” Yamaguchi huffed. He turned away from Tsukishima and faced the lamp. “I bet it would be a better reference than you anyways.” 

“Rude.” Tsukishima scoffed at him. “And no one gave me that lamp. I bought it myself.”  
  
Yamaguchi turned back around so fast he almost got whiplash. “ _What._ ”

He tried to form a mental image of Tsukishima in the store genuinely picking that up and putting it in his shopping bag. His brain failed him. 

“Why are you so surprised? I like dinosaurs.” 

“You like- You-” Yamaguchi sputtered. Tsukishima frowned at him. 

“Shut up. Paleontology is cool. If we didn’t have fossils we wouldn’t know how species on Earth evolved and adapted to- would you stop laughing?”

Tsukishima threw a pillow at Yamaguchi, who was still cackling. 

“Oh my god. You’re a dinosaur nerd.”  
  
“I am not a dinosaur nerd.”

“You were probably one of those kids who brought fossils to school to show them off.”

Tsukishima opened his mouth, maybe to rebut, but closed it. “I would say you’re wrong, but I have a bag of fossils and prints somewhere here.” 

“Oh my god. You have to show me right now.” 

“I don’t think I do, actually.”  
  
Yamaguchi stared at him with pleading eyes. After a minute, Tsukishima sighed and tried to bend over to reach something under his bed.

“Oh, no you don’t. I’ll get it.” Yamaguchi reached under the bed and pulled out a bag. He gave the bag to Tsukishima, who laid out a few fossils on the duvet, along with a couple of photographs.  
  
“Well,” he gestured to the display, “this is it.”  
  
“Cool!” Yamaguchi exclaimed. He picked one up and ran his hand over the mold. “So, what are all of them?”

Tsukishima sighed. “Do you want the long version or the short version?”

Yamaguchi shrugged. “I have time. Long version.”  
  
“Ok, but you asked for this. Remember that.” Tsukishima inhaled sharply before launching into an insanely detailed rant about types of fossils, how they get made, where they were found, how they were put together, and a bunch of other facts that Yamaguchi couldn’t decipher if he tried. He blinked cluelessly as Tsukishima rambled on about fossil similarities across continents and how that proved that the Earth wasn’t flat or whatever. Instead of trying to decode Tsukishima, he grabbed his sketchpad. Maybe he could capture Tsukishima’s enthusiastic grin on paper. 

“You know, there’s this exhibit opening up next year, I think. It’s supposed to be about dinosaurs and fossils and stuff. You would love it,” Yamaguchi said absently, shading a small part of Tsukishima’s hair. 

Tsukishima froze and glared at Yamaguchi, who was still shading. Yamaguchi finally took note of the silence and looked up. He gulped. “It was just a thought. Sorry, Tsukki.”

Tsukishima eased up, but he shook his head. “That’s all I’ve got about fossils today,” he muttered and started putting his fossils away. Yamaguchi wanted to snap his pencil in half. 

Stupid Yamaguchi. What was wrong with him? Tsukishima told him on the first day they met that he didn’t ever want to go outside. 

But part of his brain still nagged him about it. Why was he so adamant about it? Was it purely medical? Or was he just that much of a cynic? He remembered what Tsukishima said, about the fact that there would be no point. He was dying anyway. Tsukishima saw the world as cold and distant. He didn’t think he belonged in it. Yamaguchi hated that.  
  
“That would be nice,” Tsukishima said softly, right before Yamaguchi started to pack up to go home. 

“Hm? What?” 

“I said, that would be nice. Visiting the museum. I wouldn’t ever do it, but it would be nice.” 

Well, Yamaguchi thought with a wide grin as he swung his bag across his shoulder, baby steps. 

___

Once again, Yamaguchi jumpstarted the conversation with a question.

“What do you have?” he asked Tsukishima. 

Tsukishima didn’t reply at first. “Why do you want to know?”

It had been over two months since Yamaguchi started visiting Tsukishima almost every day. When he wasn’t able to visit, he’d call or text him and they’d stay up all night either talking or listening to music. After a while, life seemed incomplete without Tsukishima. But even after all that time, he still had no idea why Tsukishima was here. 

He was dying, he knew that much. But he didn’t know anything about his condition. He didn’t know any of his symptoms. He didn’t even know if it was healthy for Tsukishima that he was getting so many visitations all the time. All he knew was that Tsukishima used a crutch to get around occasionally, and there were often moments where he would have a coughing fit, in which case he would have to run and get a doctor. Yamaguchi wouldn’t be allowed in the room after that. 

Yamaguchi shrugged. “I just want to know. Just in case.”

Tsukishima rolled his eyes. “In case of what? I’m not contagious if that’s what you're wondering.”

“That’s not why I’m asking!” Yamaguchi snapped back. He eased up after seeing Tsukishima’s stunned expression. “I just don’t want to be surprised or useless or freeze up. In case something happens to you while I’m here.” 

Tsukishima was silent, which Yamaguchi took as a refusal to answer his question. He sighed, flipped through the comic book he grabbed from Tsukishima’s collection. If he wasn’t going to answer, that was his decision. 

“It’s an interstitial lung disease.”

Yamaguchi closed the book and turned to face Tsukishima. He was sitting up on the bed, face slightly pale and lips too chapped. Yamaguchi decided that he didn’t ever want to draw Tsukki like this. 

“It’s like-” Tsukishima ran his hands through his hair “-my lung tissue is completely damaged. So I can’t breathe properly. I get coughing fits a lot. I get sick a lot too. I can’t get a lung transplant, apparently, it’s too risky. So I’m just stuck here. I go to oxygen therapy. I take some meds. Sometimes I get really bad and I have to get hooked up to some device. I use a crutch sometimes to walk because I might need support when I walk in case I get shortness of breath. Is that all?”

Yamaguchi stilled, trying to process everything Tsukishima just told him. “How long do you think you have?”

Tsukishima laughed. “I don’t know. Not long, I think. The doctors said I was doing a lot better these past 3 or 4 months. But my situation could get worse any minute, so who knows.”

Yamaguchi didn’t appreciate the smile on Tsukishima’s face when he said that. 

“So that’s why you won’t go outside,” he muttered, mostly to himself.

Tsukishima heard him anyway. “What? No, I’m not in a bad enough condition right now that I have to be inside at all times. I told you already, I just don’t want to go outside.”

There it was. The perfectly innocent statement that turned Yamaguchi’s veins to ice for no apparent reason. “Oh,” he said simply, ducking his head. 

Tsukishima frowned at him. “Why are you so upset by that? It’s not like it’s your problem.”

Yamaguchi shook his head. “It’s fine, Tsukki. It’s nothing.” 

Tsukishima sighed. “You know, you bring up going outside a lot. It’s kind of annoying.” 

Yamaguchi didn’t say a word. He just fiddled with his comic book, and let Tsukishima talk for once. 

“Can I ask you a question? Why do you want me to go outside so badly?

Yamaguchi looked up. “What?”

“It was a simple question, Yamaguchi.”

Sure, it was a simple enough question. But Yamaguchi never really thought about it much. Why did he want Tsukishima to come outside so badly? Did he want him to live his life to the fullest? Because that wasn’t Yamaguchi's decision to make. It was Tsukishima’s. Yamaguchi knew that. But still-

“It’s selfish, I think,” Yamaguchi answered finally. “I just want to show you the world around you. I want to see your face while you see it, and I want to draw it. It’s stupid and selfish and completely inappropriate, but that’s all I have.” 

Tsukishima was silent again, but it wasn’t terrifying this time. It was contemplative like he was deciphering some archaic code. 

“You’re right,” he said finally. “That is stupid.” 

Yamaguchi’s face burned. “You’re awful, you know that?”

“What? It’s a dumb reason. You want me to go outside… for you? Why would I ever-”

“Alright! I get it.” Yamaguchi grabbed his bag and swung it around his shoulder violently. “I’ll see you later.” 

“Wait, Yama-”

He was out the door before Tsukishima finished. 

Yamaguchi was almost out of the hospital doors when he realized that his bag felt significantly lighter. 

He dropped to the floor and ripped the bag open, swearing under his breath when he realized what had happened.

He left his sketchpad behind. In Tsukishima’s room. 

Fantastic. This shouldn’t be awkward at all. 

He dragged his feet down the hall before landing outside Tsukishima’s door. He opened it softly and peeked in. Tsukishima was lying on his side, facing away from the door. The room was eerily silent, except for Tsukishima’s slow breathing. Yamaguchi wondered whether or not he should call the doctor. 

“I thought you were going to leave.” A cold voice rose from under the covers. “You did a whole dramatic exit and everything.”

Yamaguchi blushed. “I, um, I left my sketchpad here.” 

Tsukishima didn’t give him a response, so Yamaguchi entered the room and did a quick scan. He found his sketchpad lying on Tsukishima’s desk, untouched. Letting out a sigh of relief, he shoved the pad in his bag.

He looked over at Tsukishima, who was still lying in bed. He didn’t turn his head up to even acknowledge Yamaguchi's presence. 

“Look. I know it’s a stupid reason. But I honestly don’t know why you keep yourself in here. I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s fully your decision what you do with your life. I shouldn’t have tried to comment on your life or anything. So, I’m sorry.” 

Tsukishima didn’t reply, so Yamaguchi shook his head softly. “Well. See you,” he said as he made his way to the door. 

A voice stopped him before his hand touched the doorknob. “Wait.” 

Yamaguchi turned around, where Tsukishima had fully sat up, legs dangling off the bed. “Where would you take me?” 

“What?” 

“Where would you take me? If you wanted to bring me outside.”

Yamaguchi studied Tsukishima’s eyes. They were dead serious. Yamaguchi felt a huge weight being lifted off his chest. 

“It would be a surprise. You’d have to come and find out.”

Tsukishima stared at him with those intense eyes that made Yamaguchi want to run out the door, and shrugged. “I guess I’ll have to find out then.”

Yamaguchi grinned widely at Tsukishima, making him cross his arms over his chest and turn his face away. Without thinking, he ran to hug Tsukishima. 

Tsukishima obviously wasn’t expecting this, because his arms were pressed awkwardly to his sides, but he didn’t push Yamaguchi away. He buried his face in Yamaguchi’s shoulder, and Yamaguchi couldn’t help but notice how well he fit there. 

“Thank you, Tsukki.”

“You’re crushing me, Yamaguchi.”

“Oh! Sorry, Tsukki.” 

___

The doctors had to run multiple tests before Tsukishima was ready to leave the hospital for the first time in years. 

Yamaguchi was okay with waiting outside for him. He watched Tsukishima as he ran through test after test. Simple procedure, he called it. Not only did Tsukishima have a life-threatening disease, but he also hadn’t left the hospital in ages. They had to check his immune system, to make sure he was fit enough to leave. 

Soon enough, Tsukishima was sent his way with a bag of emergency medical equipment and a disgustingly sweet pep talk.

“So where are we going?” Tsukishima asked him. They were walking down the road side by side. Yamaguchi had been looking at Tsukishima the whole time, trying to see if there was any difference in his face. Maybe he was enjoying the fresh air, the busy noises of the streets, the heat of the sun. 

Nope. Tsukishima’s face looked as indifferent as ever. 

“Just wait a bit. We’re almost there, just up the hill,” Yamaguchi answered. Tsukishima shrugged and pulled out his iPod. Almost instinctively, Yamaguchi grabbed the earbuds and plugged them in both of their ears. They finally cleared the busy road and were walking on a quiet path. The only noise came from the earbuds or their shoes clapping against the road. They spent a lot of time like this. Comfortable silence with shared music between them. As much as Yamaguchi liked talking to Tsukishima, he loved the quiet moments they had too. It was serene and felt all too familiar as if they had been friends for years instead of a few months. 

“We’re here!” Yamaguchi gestured to his house. He unlocked the door and dropped his bag on the table in the living room. “You can leave your shoes there.” 

Tsukishima slipped off his shoes and looked around awkwardly. “Your house? Why are we at your house?”

Yamaguchi shrugged and turned the TV on. “You haven’t been outside in a bit. I figured it would be a little harsh to immediately push you into someplace with a lot of people and whatnot. Plus, I need some help baking anyways.”

Tsukishima scrunched up his nose. “Baking?”

“Yeah. The volleyball team’s going to a training camp in Tokyo for the weekend, and I offered to bring snacks. They’re monsters, Tsukishima.” Yamaguchi shook his head lovingly at the memory of his friends. “They would kill people for baked goods.”

“A training camp?” Tsukishima looked slightly upset. “How long is it?” 

Yamaguchi frowned slightly upon seeing Tsukishima’s face. What was up with him. “A week. Why?”

“So, you’ll be gone for a week?” Tsukishima’s voice was smaller than usual, which Yamaguchi wasn’t expecting. Wait a second. Could that mean- 

Yamaguchi nearly dropped the bag of supplies he was pulling out from the kitchen. “Oh, no way,” he cackled. 

“Yamaguchi.” Tsukishima tried for a warning voice, but his face was turning red anyways. Yamaguchi just laughed harder. 

“What? Are you going to miss me or something?” Yamaguchi wiped a stray tear from his face. Tsukishima glowered at him and shoved him slightly, making him drop the bag of flour he had in his hand.

“Oh, shit,” Tsukishima swore and Yamaguchi stopped shaking with laughter so he could grab a towel to wipe the flour off the floor. He handed one to Tsukishima. 

“Here, help me out.” Tsukishima took the towel and sat down on the floor with Yamaguchi, wiping flour off the tile and scooping it in the trash. 

“Don’t sweat it, Tsukki.” A mischievous grin still danced on Yamaguchi’s face. “I’ll call you everyday.” 

“Whatever, you’re a nightmare,” Tsukishima grumbled. “What are we making?” 

Yamaguchi got up off the floor and held out a hand to help Tsukishima up. “Probably just a couple batches of cookies. They ate those up in a minute the last time I brought them.”

“Ok.” Tsukishima’s face grew intense like he was preparing for the Great British Bake Off and not just a casual baking session. “What should I do?”

“Could you measure out the flour? You can sift it into that bowl over there. I left out measuring cups.” Yamaguchi looked through the kitchen to find sugar, butter, eggs and chocolate chips. He hadn’t been in his kitchen in ages. Apparently, his mom had changed up the location of almost everything in the kitchen in the time he hadn’t been there. He actually couldn’t remember the last time he spent a full day at his house. Most of his free time was spent with Tsukishima now. 

He finally laid everything out and grabbed a whisk to start beating the butter and sugar. “How are you holding up, Tsukki?” he asked absently. He was mainly focused on his own task. How hard could sifting flour be, anyway?

“Well. It’s not going fantastic.” Yamaguchi set his bowl down and walked over to Tsukishima. 

Oh. Wow. 

“How the hell did you manage to do that?” Yamaguchi demanded. Somehow, Tsukishima managed to sift the flour anywhere but the bowl. The entire counter looked like it was hit by a devastating avalanche. 

“It’s not like I have much experience cooking!”

“This is barely cooking! Just- here.” Yamaguchi took the sift and sprinkled flour in the bowl softly. “Like that. Now you try.” 

Tsukishima grabbed the sift and tried to mimic Yamaguchi’s motion. 

“Close, but don’t shake it so violently.” He took Tsukishima’s hand and helped him sift the rest of the flour in the bowl. “Like that.” 

“Huh,” Tsukishima muttered distantly. “You mind showing me again?” 

Yamaguchi rolled his eyes and helped him sift the rest of the flour into the bowl. “Now, clean this mess up. Honestly, it’s like baking with a toddler.”

“Who knew you had a sharp mouth?” Tsukishima snorted, already grabbing a towel to sweep even more flour into the trash. 

“Quiet, Tsukki,” he flushed. He finished mixing the rest of the dough and popped the cookies in the oven. “So, what should we do while we wait?”

“Aren’t you the host?” Tsukishima had wandered into the living room. Yamaguchi followed him out and watched him go through his extensive video game collection. 

“Ah, I wouldn’t recommend that.” Yamaguchi fell back on his couch and flipped through channels on the TV.

“Oh? Why not? Afraid I’ll beat you?” Tsukishima held out a game that Yamaguchi was all too familiar with. 

“The opposite actually. No one has ever beat me in Mario Kart since I was _10_.”

“Well then,” Tsukishima popped the game in and gave Yamaguchi a devilish grin. “Prepare to get your ass kicked.” 

Yamaguchi grabbed the controller and shot back a matching grin. “You wish.” 

  
  


Yamaguchi was ready to throw his controller at Tsukishima’s head. 

“Oh my god. How do you keep winning? You have got to be cheating somehow.”

“Nope. This is pure skill.” Tsukishima looked like a smug bastard as he beat Yamaguchi for the fifth time in a row. “When you’re done with your drawing, you should draw your sore loser face. It would look great.” 

“I do not have a sore loser face. That being said, I hate you and want to play a different game.” 

Tsukishima was about to laugh at him again when the timer for the cookies went off. They looked at each other and sprinted to the kitchen where the smell of freshly baked cookies was wafting through the room. Yamaguchi grabbed the cookies out of the oven and set them on the counter, slapping Tsukishima’s hand away when he went to grab one. 

“Not yet! They’re too hot.” Yamaguchi was about to giggle at him when he realized Tsukshima was taking deeper breaths. “Tsukki? Are you alright?” 

Tsukishima shook his head. “No, I’m fine. Just… running here… out of breath…” He took another deep breath, and Yamaguchi practically materialized by this side to support him. Tsukishima didn’t shove him off, which he took as a good sign. He leaned into Yamaguchi, who led him outside the kitchen and sat him back down on the couch. Tsukishima immediately slumped back, his head sinking into the throw pillow. 

“Do you need anything?” Yamaguchi knelt next to him on the floor, worry dripping from his voice. Tsukishima rubbed his temples and shook his head slowly. “I’m fine, Yamaguchi. Just need a minute. If I need anything, I can just grab some meds from my bag.” 

Yamaguchi nodded slowly and rested his back against the couch. He let his head slump to the side. The smell of cookies wafting through the room no longer seemed exciting. They were both silent, the only sounds that filled the room were Tsukishima’s heavy breaths, which were slowly decreasing.  
  
“I’m sorry, Tsukki.”

Tsukishima lifted his head to look at Yamaguchi, frowning. “What do you mean?”

“I should have been more careful or something. If something happens to you while you’re out, how am I supposed to-”

“Yamaguchi.” Tsukishima cut him off abruptly and tapped on his shoulder. Yamaguchi turned around at the touch. Tsukishima looked tired, but still gave him a determined glare. “Stop apologizing. This isn’t your fault. If anything, this probably would have happened at the hospital anyway. It would just be a lot more boring.”

Yamaguchi nodded again. “Are you sure you don’t need anything?”

Tsukishima shrugged. “I’m up for another round of Mario Kart.”

“Ok, anything but that,” Yamaguchi laughed. “Haven’t you hurt my pride enough?” Tsukishima cracked a small smile and fumbled with the controller. 

“Fine then. What else should we play?”

“Hm. How about that?” 

Yamaguchi and Tsukishima spent the rest of the time rotating between games. Yamaguchi lost almost all of them, which only made him slightly mad. But seeing Tsukishima’s secret smug smile, which he masks with a look of indifference once he notices Yamaguchi is staring at him, is enough to let him let Tsukishima take his wins. 

After the sixth game they had queued up, Yamaguchi’s phone started buzzing. He picked it up without a thought, just assuming it was someone from school. 

“Hello?”  
  
“Tadashi?” His mom sounded worried over the phone. Yamaguchi frowned and got up, excusing himself. He slipped into the kitchen before answering his mom.  
  
“Mom? Is everything alright?”  
  
“Yes, it’s all fine here. But apparently there’s a huge storm outside where you are. People are saying you can’t go outside.”

“Oh. Let me check.” Yamaguchi walked back to the living room and opened the curtains. Sure enough, rain poured heavily on the streets. Thunder was crashing loudly with no remorse. He wondered how they didn’t notice this before.  
  
“Is Tsukishima still home with you?”

“Yeah, he is,” Yamaguchi replied. Tsukishima mouthed him a question. _What’s wrong?_

 _Nothing,_ Yamaguchi mouthed back. “How come?”

“You guys can’t go back to the hospital in this weather. Can you set up a futon for him? Does he have all of his things?” 

Yamaguchi shuffled awkwardly in place. “Yeah, I think he does. And I can set up a futon.”  
  
_A futon?_ Tsukishima mouthed at him again. Yamaguchi waved his hand to dismiss the question. 

“Will he be fine here? What if something happens or-”

“If something happens, call the hospital immediately. Tsukishima should know what to do if anything happens. But I’m sure it will be fine. It’s just one night.”  
  
Yamaguchi nodded and made a mental note of everything his mom just said. “Ok. Thanks, have a good night.”  
  
“Stay safe, I love you.”  
  
“Love you too.” Yamaguchi cut the call and looked back at a very confused Tsukishima. “There’s a huge storm outside. It’s too dangerous to drop you back at the hospital, so you’ll have to stay here for tonight.”  
  
“Oh. How’s your mom going to get home?”  
  
Yamaguchi shook his head as he went to get a futon out. “She’s out of town today. She’s staying somewhere else. It’s just us two for tonight.”

Tsukishima shrugged. “Ok then. Can I take a shower?” 

Yamaguchi pointed in the direction of the bathroom. “Knock yourself out. I’ll try to find some clothes for you.” 

Yamaguchi dragged the futon to his room and dumped Tsukishima’s backpack next to it. He went through his wardrobe to find something that might fit Tsukishima. Most of the clothes he had would be way too small, but he finally found some oversized sweatpants and a sleep shirt that looked fine. He left them on the bathroom counter and flopped down on his bed. He checked the time on his phone, 11:48, they had been up for ages. He absently tapped at his phone to make sure he didn’t fall asleep. He didn’t want to sleep before Tsukishima got back. 

Yamaguchi fell asleep before Tsukishima got back. 

He woke up in complete darkness. Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he rolled over to check the time on his phone. 

3:42. 

So that’s why he was so tired. 

“Did I wake you up?” a gravelly voice asked him from below. Yamaguchi leaned over his bed where Tsukishima was lying on his futon, watching a movie on his laptop. 

“I fell asleep on accident. Have you been up the whole time?” 

Tsukishima turned back to his laptop. He had taken his glasses off, which made his eyes appear a lot bigger than they usually did. Yamaguchi wished it was bright enough in his room for him to draw them. 

“I couldn’t sleep.” 

Yamaguchi winced. “Oh. Is that a side effect or?”

Tsukishima nodded. “I took some meds before sleeping. I was having trouble with…” his voice trailed off at the end, but Yamaguchi could tell what he meant. 

“You should have woken me up. Was it serious? Are you feeling better now?”

“I’m fine, Yamaguchi. I just wanted to let you sleep.” Tsukishima’s voice was as indifferent as ever, but his voice lifted ever so slightly at the last sentence. “You looked peaceful.”

Yamaguchi was glad Tsukishima couldn’t see his face in the dark. With a groan, he lifted himself off his bed and slid into Tsukishima’s futon. 

“So, what movie are you watching? It isn't Jurassic Park, is it?” 

Tsukishima stared at him in shock. “First of all, I would never watch that sorry excuse of a movie. And second, you should go back to sleep. You seemed tired.”

“Well, I’m awake now. And I want to watch a movie with you. So, what are we watching?” 

Tsukishima scoffed at him and shifted slightly on the futon so Yamaguchi could have more room. “Sharknado.” 

Yamaguchi nearly fell off the futon. “Sharknado? What the hell? You call Jurassic Park a sorry excuse of a movie and you go and watch this abomination?”

“First of all, Jurassic Park is the worst plague on Earth humanity has ever experienced. All that movie budget and they couldn’t even properly portray the dinosaurs? Why did they have to make the Dilophosaurus venomous? They weren’t venomous! There is no evidence that any of the fucking dinosaurs spit fucking poison- why are you looking at me like that?” Tsukishima paused in the middle of his rant to glare at Yamaguchi, who was trying his best not to roll over laughing. Tsukishima rolled his eyes and turned his focus back to the laptop. “Sharknado is just a bad movie. I like making fun of bad movies. And this is one of the worst. Trust me.” Tsukishima pressed play on the movie, and Yamaguchi hoisted himself up on Tsukishima’s arm to see the screen. 

They spent the next hour laughing quietly at the movie and poking each other until Tsukishima eventually fell asleep. Yamaguchi carefully shut the laptop and placed it on the desk, making sure he didn’t wake up the boy sleeping on his shoulder. He let his head fall back on the pillow and watched Tsukishima breathe softly while he slept. He tried to make a mental image of it, just in case he wanted to draw it later. 

At around 6 am, both of the boys fell asleep next to each other. 

___

Yamaguchi regretted introducing Tsukishima to that stupid video game. 

“Tsukki. We haven’t talked since I got here.” 

“Shut up, I’m trying to beat this level.” His eyes were glued to the screen. Apparently, he was in some epic battle with a scary-looking glob of pixels, and he kept dying in the middle. Yamaguchi showed him the game because Kenma had been playing it at the training camp a few days ago. He was just visiting on the last day, along with a couple other graduates, but had eventually retreated into a corner with his videogames as usual. Yamaguchi joined him to see what he was playing. Kenma enjoyed the game a lot, so Yamaguchi figured Tsukishima might also be into it. He liked playing RPGs a lot anyways. What he didn’t know was that Tsukishima got into Kenma-like trances while playing video games. It could be cute sometimes, but after a while it just got frustrating. 

“So? It’s not my fault you can’t beat the level. I want to tell you about this jerk at the training camp.”

“I’m still listening,” Tsukishima mumbled. “You can go ahead.” His eyes hadn’t even left the screen. Yamaguchi stuck his tongue out at him and pulled out his sketchpad. He decided to take a break from the main drawing and doodled a tiny version of him and Tsukishima in the style of the video game. 

“What do you think?” Him and Tsukishima we’re sitting side by side on the bed, Tsukishima’s legs crossed and Yamaguchi’s outstretched, like a cat. He turned around slightly to show Tsukishima his drawing. 

“Did you finish the drawing?” Tsukishima’s eyes finally snapped away from his screen. Yamaguchi pulled his sketchpad back and flushed. 

“No, still working on it. I just did a little doodle.” He shoved the sketchpad back at him, and Tsukishima’s lips curled upwards slightly. 

“It’s nice. You’re actually pretty good at this.”

“Hey!” Yamaguchi snatched his sketchpad back with an indignant huff. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Nothing, I’ve just never actually seen your drawings. You’re taking ages to finish it.”

Yamaguchi turned away from him to shove his pad in his bag. “Well, art takes time. Be patient.” 

“It’s been months, Yamaguchi.”

“ _Patience._ You don’t get into the _University of Arts_ without a little patience.” 

Tsukishima ignored him, Yamaguchi had been buzzing about getting accepted into the University of Arts for a week now, and continued playing his game. Yamaguchi fell back on the hit and let his head sink into the stiff, hospital pillow. Tsukishima looked even taller from down there. He looked a little paler and skinnier today when Yamaguchi saw him, which Tsukishima assured was fine, nothing happened to him, it was just a side effect of the medication, just drop it. The bags under his eyes had sunk even deeper. Yamaguchi wondered how much he slept nowadays. 

“I might be visiting less for the next week.” 

That grabbed Tsukishima’s attention. He paused the game and turned around to face Yamaguchi. “Why?”

“We have a game. If we win, we go to nationals. The team has to put in extra practice.”

“Oh.” Tsukishima looked upset, for just a split second, before easing up again. “When’s the game?”

“In a week. We’re playing at the Sendai City Gymnasium. Against Shiratorizawa. It’s going to be brutal.” Yamaguchi sighed. He craned his head up to look at the ceiling. “Would you be able to come?"

Yamaguchi couldn’t see Tsukishima’s reaction to his question, but he sounded surprised. “Do you want me to come?”

“Of course. But would you be able to come outside? You’re looking-“

“A lot worse?” Yamaguchi couldn’t see, but he could almost feel Tsukishima rolling his eyes. “I’m doing fine. But I don’t know if I want to come or not.” 

Yamaguchi shrugged. He expected as much anyways. “Well, wish me luck anyways.”

“Practice, and you won’t need me to give you any luck.” 

Yamaguchi giggled and gave Tsukishima a mock salute. “Aye aye, captain.”

  
  


“Hinata, calm down!” Yamaguchi laughed, trying to keep up with the rest of his team. He couldn’t blame Hinata for being so excited. They had won the game! They were going to nationals! If Yamaguchi wasn’t supposed to be the one who had to round everyone up, he might have been jumping and screaming in joy too. 

Hinata calmed down for a record of five seconds, before spotting a few people in the crowd. 

“KENMA! KUROO! DID YOU SEE ME!” 

Kenma looked overwhelmed. Yamaguchi would have laughed at him if he wanted to get involved in their conversation. “Yeah, you did really well.” 

Hinata was chatting enthusiastically with Kenma and Kuroo, with Kageyama trying his level best to drag Hinata back to the team. Yamaguchi stood a couple paces behind and watched them with a soft look on his face. That was his team.

“You didn’t tell me you were the captain.”

Yamaguchi spun around and nearly knocked his head against Tsukishima. 

“Tsukki? What are you doing here?” 

The cold air made Tsukishima's face flush red. “You said I could come. The doctors said I was fine to go and watch your game. You never told me you were a captain.”

Yamaguchi didn’t respond immediately. He was taking a while to process the moment. Tsukishima was _here_ . He looked pale, and was bundled up in like, five layers, Yamaguchi would question him about that later, but he was _here_ . He visited the game. He saw Yamaguchi _play_. 

Yamaguchi blinked, snapping him out of his trance. “Would you have believed me?” Yamaguchi pouted, punching him in the arm slightly. 

Tsukishima rubbed his arm lightly. “What’s that supposed to mean? Of course I would have believed you. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Didn’t you laugh for like 10 minutes when I told you I played volleyball in the first place?” 

“Details, details. Besides, I didn’t know how good you were back then.” 

Yamaguchi rubbed the back of his head and laughed nervously. “Oh, I am not that good. Kageyama and Hinata are the real stars of the show.”

“Is that the tiny orange kid and that mean guy? That’s a really freakish combo.”

Yamaguchi wanted to remark that it was bold of Tsukishima to judge anyone else as a “mean guy,” but he kept that thought to himself. “Yeah, they sure are a dynamic duo.”

“Sure, they’re good. Annoying and flashy, but good. But your serves are incredible, Yamaguchi. And you seem like a damn good captain. Stop selling yourself so short.” 

Yamaguchi looked up at him, not sure what to say. Maybe he should thank him? Ask him if he enjoyed the game? 

“I-”

“Yamaguchi! Are you coming? Who are you talking to?” a voice screamed from across the road. Hinata was waving frantically at him, gesturing for him to get on the departing bus. 

Yamaguchi gave him a thumbs up, before turning back to Tsukishima. “You want to meet the gang?”

Tsukishima scrunched up his nose. “Hard pass. I’ll take another bus home.”

“That’s fine then. You’ll just have to meet them at nationals.” 

Tsukishima’s eyes grew distant. “Yeah. Nationals. I’ll see you guys play there.” 

Yamaguchi’s smile grew impossibly big, and he pulled Tsukishima into a soul-crushing hug. “Stay safe, ok? Text me when you get back.”

“What are you, my mom?” Tsukishima wheezed out. Yamaguchi let go in an instant, and Tsukishima laughed at the look of worry on his face. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Yamaguchi.”

He waved and started walking in the direction of the bus stop. Yamaguchi waved back. 

“See you tomorrow, Tsukki.”

___

“Who was that?” Hinata asked him when he got on the bus.

Yamaguchi could do nothing to hide the dopey grin on his face. “A friend.”

___

The doctors wouldn’t let Yamaguchi into Tsukishima’s room the next day. Yamaguchi waited outside Tsukishima’s door until they chased him out. Almost a week had passed without any contact with Tsukishima. Yamaguchi was going insane without him. He sent him texts everyday (he never got a response), he stayed overtime at the gym and baked a lot more. But most of all, he drew. He drew Tsukishima like his life depended on it. He drew everything he remembered, his ruffled hair, his upturned nose, his slipping glasses and deep, brown eyes. 

For the eighth day in a row, Yamaguchi texted him. 

[To: Tsukki]

Hey? How are you feeling?

There wasn’t a response. Yamaguchi sighed and put his phone back on his nightstand. He was about to pick up his homework when the phone buzzed.  
  
Yamaguchi dropped the homework on the floor and ran to check his phone. 

[Tsukki]

im alright. wbu?

Yamaguchi nearly screamed. Why the hell did Tsukishima care how Yamaguchi was doing? He wasn’t the one currently in hospital. 

[To: Tsukki]

Can I call you?

[Tsukki]

why dont you just come over 

theyll let you 

Yamaguchi inhaled sharply and grabbed his bag. He shoved his sketchpad and some muffins in his bag and bolted towards the door. 

[To: Tsukki]

I’m omw 

  
  


Yamaguchi would have sobbed when he saw Tsukishima, but he managed to hold it in. 

He looked… different. He still looked like Tsukishima. His same, cynical, sarcastic Tsukishima. But he looked weaker. His arms were skinnier than before, his eyes were half-closed and dull, his lips looked too chapped. He was strapped to a breathing device that sat next to the bed, which was beeping steadily. It reminded Yamaguchi too much that he was in a hospital.

Yamaguchi sat down on a chair next to the hospital bed. Tsukishima turned around and gave him a slight smile as a greeting. 

“You haven’t been here in ages.” 

“The doctors wouldn’t let me in.” Yamaguchi’s voice was so faint, he could barely hear himself. “Is it uncomfortable?” 

“What, this?” Tsukishima shrugged. “It took a while to get used to, but this is only for critical conditions. I should be getting a smaller one soon.”

“Critical conditions…” Yamaguchi trailed off, not trusting his voice to stay steady. 

Tsukishima frowned. “What are you so down about? I should be fine to get off of it in a few days.” Tsukishima raised a hand to lightly punch Yamaguchi in the arm, but he swatted it away. Tsukishima frowned. “What happened?” 

“It’s my fault, isn’t it?” Yamaguchi finally said. “I made you go outside.” Yamaguchi felt his eyes sting, and he tried his best to blink back his tears. He would not cry in front of Tsukishima. He refused to cry in front of Tsukishima. “You might have been better if it wasn’t for me.” 

Tsukishima’s face turned rigid. He glared at Yamaguchi before turning over to lie on his back, staring up at the ceiling instead of Yamaguchi. “You know that is complete bullshit, right?” 

Yamaguchi was used to Tsukishima’s bluntness, but this one just stung. “What do you mean? You were fine before I got here. You were fine before I spewed that crap about wanting to see the world with you. I was selfish and stupid and-”

“Yamaguchi.” Tsukishima’s voice was ice cold. “This wasn’t your fault. This was never your fault. Whether I stayed in the hospital or went fucking skydiving, I was going to get worse. I am dying, for fucks sake. You can’t blame yourself for that.” 

“Still-”

“Still nothing. I’m 18, Yamaguchi. I’m supposed to get worse now, anyways. I’m not going to live for much longer. Hell, I don’t even know if I’m going to see my next birthday. Cheering you on at a volleyball game isn’t going to kill me any faster than I’m already dying.” 

Yamaguchi stilled. He didn’t like Tsukishima casually talking about this. Casually talking about his life and death like it was a video game and not real life. He didn’t want Tsukishima to die. He didn’t want to be away from him. He wanted to play video games with him and listen to music with him and draw him, draw him until his fingers broke off. He wanted- no he needed Tsukishima to live. 

“Yamaguchi.” Tsukishima’s voice was softer than usual. “Don’t you dare regret bringing me outside. Don’t you dare regret that. Promise me you won’t regret that.” 

“Fine. I promise.”  
  
Tsukishima looked pleased, before continuing. “And promise me-” Tsukishima’s voice got caught in his throat, but he managed to choke out the next words. “Promise me you won’t stop bringing me outside.”

Yamaguchi shook his head, and let his tears fall. Tsukishima raised a hand to wipe them off, but Yamaguchi swatted them away again. “Tsukishima, I can’t-”

“Promise me.” 

Yamaguchi looked at Tsukishima with a somber expression on his face. Tsukishima looked adamant. His eyes bore into his soul as if he was trying to forcibly pull the promise out of him. 

Yamaguchi had spent 18 years of his life without Tsukishima, and now that he had him, he never wanted to let him go, no matter what. 

“I promise.” 

___

“Come outside with me.”  
  
Tsukishima hadn’t gotten better like he promised he would. He was able to get up and move fine, but he was still permanently attached to the breathing device. He still got out of breath easily, and he still wasn’t allowed to strain himself by walking long distances. 

Yamaguchi was shading in the corner of Tsukishima’s mouth when Tsukishima had made that request. “You can’t”  
  
“You promised you would still take me outside. Stop being lame.”  
  
“No, I mean you physically can’t. The doctors said you can’t walk long distances before. And how are we supposed to carry that giant thing around?” Yamaguchi gestured to the breathing device on the opposite side of the room. “Aren’t you writing something, anyway?” 

Tsukishima instinctively shut his laptop. “Something like that. But I’m almost done with it anyways. Let’s go outside.”  
  
Yamaguchi set his sketchpad down and walked over to Tsukishima, pretending to fuss over him. He put a hand on Tsukishima’s temple and feigned surprise. “You’re actually enthusiastic about something? Who are you and what have you done with Tsukki?” 

Tsukishima swatted his hand away. “Shut up, Yamaguchi. We can get a wheelchair, and hook up the device on there. Let’s just take a walk or something.” 

Yamaguchi stared at him for a while, and then sighed. “Fine. I’ll get a doctor. Let’s go.”

Tsukishima didn’t talk much during the walk. He just observed the world around him with glazed eyes and a thoughtful expression. Yamaguchi didn’t mind the silence. He didn’t try to fill it in with meaningless conversation. He let Tsukishima take the moment for himself. Instead, he waved to people in the street they were walking down. He said hello to the lady working in the grocery store, stopped for a second to help an old man carry boxes into a truck, and held an excruciatingly long conversation with an old woman sitting on a park bench who was apparently not very fond of the fact that her son in law wanted to pursue the arts. Yamaguchi’s eye twitched quite a bit during that conversation, which was what made Tsukishima snap out of his trance and ask Yamaguchi to pull him away. He snickered at the furious boy once they were out of earshot. 

“You’ve been weirdly quiet this entire walk,” Tsukishima remarked. “Not going to make fun of the old hag back there?” 

Yamaguchi shook his head. “I heard that stuff all the time. Plus, I thought you liked the quiet.”  
  
Tsukishima hummed slightly. “I do. I guess I’m just used to hearing you talk in the background.” 

Yamaguchi’s face burned. “Oh, so I’m just background noise to you?” He tried for a teasing tone, but his voice fumbled so much, it barely came out as a whisper. 

Tsukishima whipped his head back to glare at Yamaguchi. “Of course not, shut u-” he faltered. “Wait, I mean-” 

He was cut off by Yamaguchi’s laughter. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. Don’t hurt yourself.” 

Tsukishima turned back and rested his head on the headrest of the chair while Yamaguchi talked softly about school. He talked about art school applications and volleyball games and his idiot pining teammates. 

“Seriously, they’re so obviously in love, it’s disgusting. Like, how dense can someone be?”

Tsukishima snorted. “Tell me about it.”  
  
Yamaguchi frowned, hoping Tsukishima couldn’t tell how much his heart was beating. He decided to ignore that comment and continue talking. 

After walking around for a while, Tsukishima tugged on his sleeve and pointed at a bakery. 

“Let’s go in here. It’s getting cold.”

Yamaguchi frowned as he brought them both into the bakery. “Are you feeling alright? If you’re feeling cold we can head back.”  
  
“I’m fine, Yamaguchi. I just wanted to visit.”

Yamaguchi found them an empty table and the two placed their orders. Yamaguchi found himself giggling at Tsukishima’s order. 

“Strawberry shortcake? You should have told me, I would have made that for you instead,” he snickered. 

“Shut up, it’s nostalgic. My brother used to buy these for me all the time. He got me one of these recently,” Tsukishima replied absently, picking at his cake. 

Yamaguchi froze. Tsukishima hardly ever mentioned his family. He didn’t even know he kept in contact with them. He always assumed Tsukishima had a complicated situation with his family. He didn’t seem like one for sentimental attachment, anyways.

Tsukishima must have noticed his silence, because he added, “I don’t talk to him much. He already graduated, and I told him to not visit me anyways. Not that that stops him.”  
  
“So he visits you often?”

“Definitely not. He stopped visiting a few years back, but he came to visit me a few days ago. While you were at nationals.”

Yamaguchi stopped breathing. Nationals. Karasuno made it pretty far down the bracket before losing to some school in Tokyo. Tsukishima wanted to come, but it was too far away for the hospital to permit it. He had called Tsukishima almost everyday during his time away. 

“You never told me,” he said softly. 

Tsukishima shrugged. “I’m telling you now, aren’t I? He didn’t visit for long anyways, he just bought me the cake and we talked for a bit.” 

“What did you talk about?” 

Tsukishima’s eyes bugged out. “Uh, nothing in particular. Just, life I guess. Or lack thereof in my case.” 

Yamaguchi really didn’t know what to say. Were most people supposed to know what to say? His brain had gone blank trying to think of a reply. 

“Do you miss him sometimes?” Yamaguchi blurted out. 

Tsukishima stopped picking at his cake. He let out a shaky breath. “Sometimes, yeah. I miss him.”

“Then why don’t you talk to him more?” Yamaguchi pressed gently. Tsukishima opened his mouth as if to reply, and then just shook his head. 

“I don’t know.”

They stayed silent for the rest of the stay at the bakery. Tsukishima barely touched his cake, giving it to Yamaguchi instead. They both left the bakery, making their way back to the hospital. Yamaguchi was the first one to speak after the silence. 

“So, when do I get to meet your brother?”

“Oh, _absolutely not_.”

___

Yamaguchi finally realized why he visited Tsukishima so much. He was _addictive_. 

It took him embarrassingly long to realize, but after listening to his friends complain about him constantly being on his phone, enduring his mom telling him to stop staying at the hospital for so long, and getting reprimanded by teachers multiple times for his inattention in class, he finally realized just how hooked on Tsukishima he was. 

Maybe it came with drawing him, but Yamaguchi could close his eyes and picture Tsukishima perfectly. He could imagine him strumming absently as a guitar, or frowning at something Yamaguchi said, or laughing at something ridiculous in a TV show they were watching. He could feel his heart soaring when Tsukishima replied to one of his texts, or shot him a rare smile, or ran his fingers through his hair while thinking about something. 

“Hinata,” he said one day, randomly after practice. The third years had broken off from the rest of the team to get some ice cream. Kageyama was currently buying them their cones. “I think I’m in love.” 

“With that guy you’ve been texting 24/7?” Hinata snorted. “Yeah, of course you are. It’s not like you aren’t painfully obvious.”  
  
Hinata wasn’t one to lecture him about being painfully obvious, but Yamaguchi was preoccupied with other thoughts at the moment. He was in love. Excruciatingly in love. With a boy who was dying. 

“Yeesh, why do you look so sad about it? Is it that bad?” Hinata asked, not unkindly. 

Yamaguchi’s eyes burned as he shook his head. “Yeah. It is.”

___

Yamaguchi had to adapt his drawing into one of Tsukishima playing the guitar, because that was virtually all he did nowadays. 

He would play a couple chords, take a break, type something on his computer, and play a little more. Yamaguchi could barely piece together a coherent song out of all the notes. It didn’t sound like anything on their shared playlist. 

It had recently dawned on Yamaguchi how much Tsukishima’s life entwined with his own. They had shared music, art, food, video games, even clothes occasionally. It was like anything Yamaguchi saw something that was his, it automatically felt like it belonged to Tsukishima too, by default. 

Two things they never shared, however, was Yamaguchi’s sketchpad, and Tsukishima’s guitar. Yamaguchi remembered the first time he asked Tsukishima about it. Tsukishima had told him he wouldn’t play it for him. And now here he was, playing it in front of Yamaguchi as if that conversation never happened. Yamaguchi grinned at the irony. 

“What are you smiling at?” Tsukishima demanded. Yamaguchi’s grin grew bigger. 

“Can’t I just smile because I feel like it?”

“Hm.” Tsukishima decided to drop the conversation and went back to fiddling with the strings. Yamaguchi set his sketchpad on the desk and sat on the bed across from Tsukishima. Tsukishima moved back instinctively to give Yamaguchi some room, not taking his eyes off the guitar. 

“What are you working on?” Yamaguchi leaned in closer to look at Tsukishima in the eyes. 

Tsukishima tensed and looked up at him. “A song. I’m trying to write a song. It’s not going very well.”

“It sounds pretty good. Can I hear it?” 

Tsukishima shook his head. “You never show me your drawing.”  
  
“You never ask to see my drawing. I’m asking.” Yamaguchi paused. “It’s ok if you don’t want to. That’s fine.”

Tsukishima bit his lip. “I want to show you. It’s just… unfinished.”

“Then just show me what you have so far.” Yamaguchi shrugged. 

Yamaguchi leaned back to give Tsukishima room to play. Tsukishima cleared his throat and nodded. 

“Fine. Just a little bit, then.”

Tsukishima scrolled up on his computer, inhaled, and strummed the guitar. 

Yamaguchi forgot how to breathe. 

The song wasn’t anything special, in retrospect. It was unfinished. The notes were put together choppily, and Tsukishima fumbled a couple of chords. But the song was slow. It was sad. It was raw. It felt like Tsukishima was baring his soul out to whoever listened, giving them silent permission to rip out his heart and stomp on it. 

It wasn’t very good. But Yamaguchi never wanted to stop listening to it. 

Tsukishima finally stopped playing and tucked the guitar behind him. “It’s not the best song, I know-”

Yamaguchi interrupted him mid-sentence. “It was amazing."

Tsukishima blinked. “It’s not even close to being finished. I just played it terribly.”

“I don’t care. I love it.” 

Tsukishima was doing that cute thing again. The thing where he ran his fingers through his hair when he was thinking. “Akiteru actually told me to write it. When he visited me. ” Ah. So his brother’s name was Akiteru. “I took your advice, I call him sometimes. He’s been helping me write the song, actually. He told me it might help me express my feelings better because I apparently suck at using words for it.”

“Well, he isn’t wrong,” Yamaguchi snorted. Tsukishima gave him a weak punch on the arm, and he laughed. “So? Did it work? How expressed are your feelings?”

Tsukishima rolled his eyes. “Holy shit. You’re so dense.” They had somehow gotten impossibly closer. 

“Huh? What’s that supposed to mean?” Yamaguchi protested, still not moving from his spot. The gap between him and Tsukishima was less than an eyelash’s width apart, which wasn’t exactly doing favors for his brain. What did Tsukishima mean? Why was he dense? If anything, Tsukishima was the dense one for not realizing-

Oh. 

The last thought Yamaguchi had before the gap between him and Tsukishima closed was, _The song was for me._

It was brief. Barely even there. It was as if both of them were too scared of hurting the other. For a minute, Yamaguchi forgot everything about the situation. He forgot he was sitting on a hospital bed, with a boy in his arms who had a timer on his back. He forgot that he might never have this moment again. For now, they were just two people who happened to find each other. And Yamaguchi didn’t want to let go just yet. 

“Play it for me again,” Yamaguchi whispered. 

And Tsukishima did. 

___ 

  
  


Yamaguchi was banned from seeing Tsukishima for at least 2 weeks. 

Tsukishima got sick a lot. It was a side effect of his disease, Tsukishima later explained. Usually, this meant Yamaguchi wasn’t allowed to see Tsukishima for a maximum of three days. Those three days were torture for Yamaguchi. 

The illness was much worse this time, however. Tsukishima could hardly breathe, and when he did, a sharp pain felt like it was stabbing his chest. Tsukishima didn’t tell Yamaguchi much about it over the phone, most likely so he wouldn’t worry, but Tsukishima would often dissolve into fits of pained coughing during their calls, which made Yamaguchi’s heart clench. 

Tsukishima hated talking about it, so Yamaguchi tried his best not to. He checked up on him at the start of every call, and then went on to talk about something else. Anything else. 

He was in the middle of telling Tsukishima about something that happened in school when he was interrupted. 

“I’m sorry.”

Yamaguchi paused his story, taken aback by Tsukishima’s apology. “What are you sorry for?”

Tsukishima was silent. Over the phone, Yamaguchi could hear his slow breathing. “I never went outside for a reason, Yamaguchi. I didn’t want to get attached to anything outside. But I also didn’t want anyone to get attached to me. Not when I knew I would never be able to be there for them. But you made me completely forget that. And now I fully let you in and you’re the one who’s going to get hurt in the long run.” 

Yamaguchi didn’t know how to respond to that. Tsukishima took a long, shaky breath and continued. 

“I made a mistake, Yamaguchi. I fell in- I got too attached too you, and now when I die this is just going to torture us both.” Tsukishima paused. “So, maybe you should-”

“Is that what I am?” Yamaguchi demanded coldly. “A mistake?” 

A beat skipped. “Yamaguchi, no, you’re-” 

“Let me finish.” Yamaguchi inhaled sharply. “I’m the one who walked into your room in the first place. I spent every day with you, dragging you outside, and I fell stupidly in love with you. That’s on me. We’re both in too deep now.” Yamaguchi paused for a second to catch his breath. “But I don’t consider that a mistake. I don’t regret ever meeting you.” He remembered their conversation a few months ago. Tsukishima made him promise that he wouldn’t regret taking him outside. 

Yamaguchi made that promise months ago. He intended on keeping it. 

“Just, promise me something,” he said finally. “Promise me you won’t ever regret getting attached to me.”  
  
Tsukishima stayed silent over the other line. Yamaguchi could only hear his slow, shallow breaths. “Did you say you fell in love with me?” 

Yamaguchi flushed. “I said promise me, Tsukki.”

Yamaguchi could almost hear Tsukishima’s sad smile over the phone. 

“I promise.”

___

  
  


The two weeks stretched out to two and a half weeks. Then three. It had been almost a month since Yamaguchi had seen Tsukishima. Been able to poke his side, push up his ever sliding glasses, flick him on the ear for stealing his headphones. It had been three weeks since Yamaguchi had drawn him. And in those three weeks, Yamaguchi couldn’t draw anything. 

The pneumonia had let up after a week or so. But the chest pain had still continued. So did the constant shortness of breath. Yamaguchi tried to call him everyday, but during some of their calls, Tsukishima could barely speak. Yamaguchi wanted so badly to cut the call, he didn’t want Tsukishima to waste his energy, but Tsukishima would gather up what little air he could, and ask him to tell him about his life. And what could Yamaguchi do but humor him?

Yamaguchi worried. He worried a lot. He couldn’t sleep most nights, which caused him to lay awake worrying about Tsukishima. He even started to Google Search all the symptoms of interstitial lung diseases. Usually, he made it a rule of thumb to not Google anything about it, he got all his information from Tsukishima himself, his mom, or the other doctors at the hospital. But stress found himself deep in research papers and medical websites. 

He wanted to close the article he found so badly. It was nearly 5 am. He just wanted to call it a night and go to bed. 

“The Final Stages of Life”

_The most common symptoms in the final stages include:_

  * _feeling more severely out of breath_


  * laboured breathing due to decreased lung function


  * having frequent flare-ups


  * loss of appetite 


  * worsened anxiety and/or depression


  * fatigue 


  * frequent coughing and chest pains


  * disturbed sleep patterns 



Yamaguchi slammed his laptop shut before he could read another word. Hadn’t Tsukishima been experiencing all of these things for almost a month now?

He buried his head in his pillow and squeezed his eyes shut. 

He dreamt of Tsukishima, again. They were watching a movie together on Yamaguchi’s couch. Tsukishima turned to look at him with a small grin on his face. He didn’t have that permanently pained expression on his face. His arms were warm as he wrapped Yamaguchi into an enveloping hug. Yamaguchi laid his head on his chest. He wanted to stay here forever. 

___

Yamaguchi finally got a call from the hospital, telling him it was alright to visit. It was in the middle of volleyball practice. He left Hinata and Kageyama in charge and sprinted out of the gym. 

Tsukishima looked tired. His eyes were half shut, and he breathed slowly as if it took a lot of effort for it. He didn’t even notice Yamaguchi’s presence until he sat down on the chair next to the hospital bed. He tried for a small smile. 

“Hey. It’s been a while.” Tsukishima’s voice was hoarse, and Yamaguchi winced. 

“Does it hurt to talk?” he whispered. Tsukishima shook his head softly. His glasses slid off his nose, and Yamaguchi leaned in to push them back up. He let his hand linger there for a second, before moving to capture Tsukishima’s hand. It was cold and pale. Yamaguchi held it tighter. 

“A week. That’s what the doctors said. I have about a week. Maybe more. Maybe less.” Tsukishima inhaled sharply again. “Are you still going to stay?”

Yamaguchi nodded. “I’m staying.” 

Tsukishima scoffed slightly. “Figured as much.” 

They were silent. Yamaguchi usually loved the comfortable silences he shared with Tsukishima, but this one was different. It was uncomfortably heavy with the knowledge that they could no longer ignore how hopeless whatever they had was. 

“Can you take me outside?” Tsukishima asked, his voice barely audible. 

Yamaguchi stared at him for a while before shaking his head. “Absolutely not. I’m not purposefully putting you at risk.”  
  
“Risk of what? I’m dead in a week, Yamaguchi.” He tried to laugh, but it came out as a feeble wheeze. “It’s not like that’s going to change.”

Yamaguchi shook his head again, more forcefully this time. “Tsukki, you’re too-”

“You promised. Please.” Tsukishima’s voice wasn’t pleading. It was as calm and cool as usual. But Yamaguchi knew he wouldn’t relent unless Yamaguchi took him outside. 

“Where do you want to go?”

“The beach?” Yamaguchi asked. He was trying his best to wheel Tsukishima across the sand and not accidentally swerve and drop them both in the ocean. 

“Yes, the beach.” Tsukishima fiddled with the air canister attached to the chair for a bit, before leaning back in. “Have you never been?”

“I’ve been! I just don’t know why you would want to come here.”

It was cold, way too cold for anyone to be at the beach. They were virtually the only ones there. Tsukishima was instructing Yamaguchi on where to go. All he could see so far was a large expanse of sand. 

“I used to come here a lot when I first got admitted. There was a little place that I used to sit under and just watch the waves for hours. I wanted to show it to you.”

“Oh.” Yamaguchi knew Tsukishima couldn’t see his face, but he smiled warmly at him anyways. “That’s sweet.”

Tsukishima grumbled. “It’s not that sweet.”

“Mhm, of course.” Yamaguchi laughed, and Tsukishima turned around to swat him on the arm. They nearly swerved into the ocean. 

Yamaguchi stopped by the boardwalk to buy the pair of the popsicles. He handed the strawberry flavored one to Tsukishima, who took it and gestured to a place back in the sand. “Over there. That’s it.” 

Tsukishima led them to a small space under the boardwalk. They both sat down on the sand and watched the waves crash. Yamaguchi looked over at Tsukishima. He seemed deep in thought, as usual. He was fully bundled up to avoid losing body heat, but his fingers still looked way too pale, almost blue. Yamaguchi leaned against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. It was slow, barely there. His breath was slow too, barely even a whisper against Yamaguchi’s neck. They were silent as they finished their popsicles. 

“These are… interesting,” Yamaguchi commented. He nearly gagged on the terrible, chocolatey flavor. “Unique aftertaste.”

“They’re literal shit, Yamaguchi,” Tsukishima deadpanned. He threw his popsicle in the trash can. “Why did you even buy them, it’s freezing outside.”

“We’re at the beach! You can’t go to the beach and not buy popsicles. What kind of fake beach trip would that be?”

“One that doesn’t result in food poisoning.” Tsukishima snatched Yamaguchi’s popsicle and threw it out too. Yamaguchi leaned into Tsukishima’s chest and laughed.

They were silent again. Yamaguchi felt the urge to turn on their playlist, they always did that during a comfortable silence. Before he could reach for Tsukishima’s iPod, he cut him off. 

“Have you finished the drawing yet?” Tsukishima asked softly. Yamaguchi turned around to face him, pouring sand over his lap. 

“The drawing of you?”  
  
Tsukishima nodded. “It’s been nearly a year. I know you said patience or whatever, but I’d like to see it. Before I die.”  
  
Yamaguchi bit his lip and looked away from Tsukishima. “Yeah. Ok. Wait a second.”

Yamaguchi fished his sketchpad out of his bag. He turned a few pages and handed it to Tsukishima. 

Yamaguchi felt Tsukishima’s breath stop. His heart skipped a beat, and he instinctively moved his hand to touch Tsukishima’s face. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, this is just…. Amazing.” 

Yamaguchi looked at the drawing he had done, and his chest swelled with pride. It was a simple profile, but he tried to add as much detail as humanly possible. By the end, it looked almost photorealistic. 

“Did you draw anything else?” Tsukishima asked. 

Yamaguchi inhaled sharply and turned the page of his sketchpad. “About that-”

The next pages were filled with smaller drawings of Tsukishima. They had just as much detail, but they were of him doing mundane things. Tsukishima listening to music while looking out the window. Tsukishima holding a guitar. Tsukishima showing off his fossils. Tsukishima playing a video game on his laptop. Tsukishima watching Sharknado with him. Tsukishima reading a book. Tsukishima lying down, listening to music out of one earbud. Just Tsukishima laughing at something, probably a ridiculous story Yamaguchi had told him. 

Yamaguchi watched silently as Tsukishima flipped through nearly every page of the sketchpad. He looked incredulous. 

“This is… this is all me,” he said finally. 

Yamaguchi looked down and played with the sand. He watched it seep between his fingers before finally replying, “It’s all you. Of course it’s all you. Who else would I draw?”

Tsukishima shut the sketchpad, and set it down on the ground. He tilted his face down so he could make eye contact with Yamaguchi. “I don’t get it. Why would you draw me?”

“If I recall, you’re the one who said I could.” When Tsukishima’s eyes narrowed, Yamaguchi sighed. “I just- I didn’t want to forget you. I don’t want to forget you. I don’t want to forget anything about you, anything about my time with you. I don’t want to lose you.” He tapped the sketchpad. “When you- when you die,” Yamaguchi choked out, “this is all I’m going to have of you. These are all the memories I’m going to have. I want to immortalize them.” 

Yamaguchi grabbed his sketchpad from the ground and went to put it back in his bag when Tsukishima grabbed his wrist. Yamaguchi flinches at the movement. Tsukishima’s hand felt too frail like it would snap off if he held his wrist any tighter. 

“You haven’t lost me. I’m not dead yet, am I?” Tsukishima demanded. Yamaguchi shook his head and stayed still as Tsukishima pulled him back in. He let Yamaguchi’s wrist go, and gestured to the sketchpad.

“You still have some pages left. Draw me.”

Yamaguchi scrunched up his nose. “Now? Why?”

He shrugged, looking out onto the ocean. The waves were getting higher now, crashing with a brutal intensity. “I just want you to keep drawing me. I don’t want you to forget me either.” He looked away from the waves and stared at Yamaguchi with the same intensity as the ocean. “Draw me until I die, Yamaguchi. Promise me.”

Yamaguchi didn’t say anything back. He just picked up his sketchpad and a pencil, started to put pencil to paper. He stopped before the two touched. 

“One condition,” 

Tsukishima furrowed his eyebrows. “What?”  
  
“Finish that song you were writing for me. I want to hear it.” Before anything happens to you, was what he wanted to add at the end of his sentence, but he figured it was better left unsaid.

Tsukishima smiled at him softly, and Yamaguchi felt like they were flying, the pair of them. They were soaring up into the clouds with nothing anchoring them to this miserable Earth. 

“I will. Now draw.”  
  
So wrapped in Tsukishima’s cold arms, Yamaguchi drew up another sketch of the boy he loved so dearly. He would immortalize this moment, and every moment after it. 

___

  
  


Tsukishima could barely move from his bed. 

His breathing was even more sporadic and strained. His skin looked almost blue, and his bones were way too visible on his flesh. He occasionally winced after a breath, in which case Yamaguchi put a comforting hand over his chest. There wasn’t much else he could do. He never felt more useless in his life. 

Tsukishima held his hand tightly over his chest and exhaled slowly. 

“Yamaguchi?” he whispered. His voice was hoarse from coughing up phlegm all day. He didn’t want Yamaguchi to be there for it, but Yamaguchi refused to leave his side. He sat by him all day, rubbing small circles into his back and telling him about school things to distract him. 

Yamaguchi nodded softly. “Yeah, Tsukki?”

Tsukishima’s voice was shaky. “Can you draw something for me?” 

Yamaguchi let go of Tsukishima’s hand to grab his sketchpad. “Do you want me to draw you?” Yamaguchi didn’t want to draw Tsukishima like this. He didn’t want to remember him like this. He wanted to remember Tsukishima as the sarcastic boy who beat him in video games and liked museum exhibits and had a comeback for everything. But if Tsukishima wanted him to draw him, he would do it without a doubt. 

Tsukishima shook his head. “No. I want you to draw yourself.” 

Yamaguchi almost dropped the pad. “I- no, why would you want me to do that?” 

Tsukishima turned away from Yamaguchi and fixed his eyes on the ceiling. “I want your face to be the last thing I see. That’s it.” 

Yamaguchi’s heart leaped. He put the pad on the table beside Tsukishima’s bed and climbed in. They carefully moved aside the wires and tubes sticking out so Yamaguchi could slot himself comfortably inside. He had an arm around Tsukishima’s bony ribs and pressed his face into his chest lightly. 

“Then you don’t need the drawing. I’ll be here with you the whole time anyway. What’s the point?” He shook his head against Tsukishima’s chest. 

Tsukishima let out a pained sigh. “What if it happens while you’re at home? Or school?”

“I’ll ditch school. I’ll stay here with you.” Yamaguchi said defiantly. He buried his head deeper, trying to commit the way Tsukishima smelled to memory. 

“Well, I’m not going to stop you if you want to do that. That’s a you problem.” Tsukishima tried to pull Yamaguchi up to face him, but Yamaguchi stopped him, coming up himself so Tsukishima didn’t have to strain himself. He looked into Tsukishima’s resigned eyes. “Can’t you just do the drawing anyway?”

Yamaguchi shook his head in defeat, grabbed his pad from the counter. He settled himself in Tsukishima’s arms and began a rough sketch. He could feel Tsukishima looking over his shoulder as he drew, but he didn’t care. It didn’t feel overbearing if it was Tsukki. 

Tsukishima had his eyes shut when Yamaguchi turned around to show him the drawing. He shook him slightly so Tsukishima would open his eyes, and gave him the sketchpad. He let his head sink into the pillow and watched Tsukishima look at the drawing for an embarrassing amount of time. 

“It’s perfect,” he said finally. Yamaguchi snatched the sketchpad out of his hands and threw it on the floor. He wrapped his arms around Tsukishima again, squeezing gently. 

“Please,” he whispered. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Tsukishima let out another shaky exhale, and tucked a spring of loose hair behind Yamaguchi’s ear. “Idiot. I’m still here, aren’t I?” Yamaguchi poked him, and he snorted, moving his hand away. “We have way too much to do still, anyways.”

Yamaguchi looked up at him and beamed. “Of course. You still need to finish my song. And meet my friends, of course.”

“Of course. And we need to see that museum opening. And the concert for that band you showed me a couple weeks ago.”

“You need to see the art school I’m going to. You could live there with me. We could get an artsy little apartment.”

“You could listen to me play guitar while you draw.” Tsukishima tried for a laugh, but it came out as a wheeze. “Maybe then you could draw something other than me for once.”

Yamaguchi snorted and shook his head. “No way. I’ll still draw you then. I’ll never stop.” He looked up to catch Tsukishima’s expression when he said that. As usual, it was unreadable. 

“Good.” Tsukishima just held Yamaguchi tighter and closed his eyes. The pained expression on his face melted away slightly. 

“Does it hurt, Tsukki?” Yamaguchi whispered. “Does this hurt?”  
  
Tsukishima shook his head slowly. “It hurts a lot. But just, stay with me anyways. It won’t hurt too much then.”  
  
Yamaguchi bit his lip and nodded. He let his head fall on Tsukishima’s shoulder as he sighed. “Hey, Tsukki?”

Tsukishima made a small hum of acknowledgment. 

“Thank you for being in my life.” 

The reply came a few seconds later. “And thank you for being in mine.”

___

Yamaguchi woke up cold. 

He jolted up, looking around for Tsukishima. He wasn’t there. Someone had lifted him out of Tsukishima’s bed. He was in his own bedroom. He checked the time. 2:23 AM. Yamaguchi grabbed his bag and coat and ran out of the house. 

He nearly swung the hospital door off its hinges, and ran to Tsukishima’s door, ignoring the doctors telling him that it wasn’t allowed. He tried the door, it didn’t open. He resorted to banging on the door loudly, screaming Tsukishima’s name at the top of his lungs. No one opened the door. He didn’t move until he was forcefully pulled away and shoved into an office room. 

“Tadashi, please. You’re disturbing the patients.” The doctor adjusted his glasses disdainfully. The small action reminded him too much of Tsukishima. 

“Where is he? He’s supposed to be there? Did you move him, or…” Yamaguchi trailed off, he pulled his hair in his hands. The doctor sighed and gestured to a chair. 

“Sit down, Tadashi. You’re panicking.” He pulled out a chair for Yamaguchi to sit in. Yamaguchi didn’t take it. 

“Where is he,” he demanded. 

The doctor put a hand on Yamaguchi's shoulder as if he was trying to comfort him. Except Yamaguchi didn’t need to be comforted. Tsukishima was fine. Why would he need to be comforted if Tsukishima was perfectly fine? He shook the doctor’s hand off.

The doctor moved away from Yamaguchi, as if he was a nuclear bomb about to be set off. “Tsukishima passed away a few hours ago. We had to move you out of the room to move his body. Your mom took you home,” the doctor stated matter of factly. “She didn’t want you to wake up and see him immediately because she knew this might happen.”

No. 

Yamaguchi couldn’t feel his legs. It was a strange sensation that made him stumble backward into the chair that was pulled out for him. He couldn’t feel his arms either. Or any part of him. It was like its soul left his body, trying to find Tsukishima’s soul and bring it back. 

“No,” he muttered finally. “No, he’s not dead. He’s not.”

The doctor nodded as if this was just everyday business for him. “You’re in shock. I know you two were close.” Yamaguchi scoffed at that remark- close didn’t cut it. “I’ll leave you here to collect your thoughts. I’ll call your mom to come and get you.” 

Yamaguchi shook his head. “Please don’t call her. I can go back myself. I just want to be left alone.” 

The doctor nodded again, and shut the door behind Yamaguchi, leaving him alone in the sterile, dreary room. 

So. That was it. Tsukishima was dead. 

Yamaguchi buried his head in his arms and let his sobs echo through the hospital. Let them hear him cry. No one deserved to be happy that day. Not when his Tsukishima was gone. 

Yamaguchi didn’t leave his house until the funeral.

He knew Tsukishima would find it lame. He probably would have rolled his eyes at him and said something like, “You’re throwing your life away because of me? Pathetic.” Yamaguchi couldn’t find it in his heart to care. 

He hadn’t opened the sketchpad since Tsukishima died. He considered burning it, but he couldn’t bring himself to do that. He couldn’t get rid of the last thing he had of Tsukishima. 

Yamaguchi stayed in the back through most of the funeral. He ducked his head low and listened to people who probably never even knew Tsukishima well talk about what a lovely person he was. Yamaguchi wanted to laugh. Did they even know Tsukki at all? 

He was about to leave when a hand grabbed his wrist. Yamaguchi spun around, and his knees went weak. 

The man dropped his wrist immediately and rubbed a sheepish hand on the back of his neck. “Hey, I’m Tsukishima Akiteru?” The statement came out as a question as if he couldn’t believe it himself. “Kei’s brother. Can we talk?” 

Yamaguchi blinked. He could see the family resemblance. They were both freakishly tall and blond. But the similarities ended there. Akiteru seemed like a politer, kinder version of Tsukishima. It was sick and twisted in its own manner. 

Yamaguchi nodded and Akiteru ushered them outside to a quiet garden. They sat down, both extremely awkward. 

“So, you’re Yamaguchi?” he asked.

Yamaguchi didn’t know how to respond, so he settled for a nod. “And you’re his brother.” 

Akiteru sat up and examined Yamaguchi. Yamaguchi felt like curling up into a ball to avoid the scrutiny. “He talked about you a lot. You’re just like he said.” 

“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

Akiteru let out a sad laugh. “Oh, definitely. He really… he really liked you, Yamaguchi.” 

Yamaguchi couldn’t look Akiteru in the eyes. He stared out blankly at the flowers. They were wilting, and Yamaguchi couldn’t help but think that was appropriate. “I liked him too,” he said quietly. 

They sat in awkward silence for a little longer. Yamaguchi was about to excuse himself before Akiteru said, “He finished the song.” 

Yamaguchi gaped at him. “He _what?_ ” 

“The song he wrote about you. He finished it a few weeks back. Did he ever play it for you?” 

Yamaguchi laughed bitterly and shook his head. “He never told me he finished it. He must have been too weak to play it.”

Yamaguchi hated the look of pity on Akiteru’s face. 

“I have the notes. Would you like me to play it for you?”

Yamaguchi quickly shook his head again. “Please don’t.” He got up from his seat, taking one more look at Akiteru before leaving. 

“It wouldn’t be the same.” 

___

For some reason, life moved on without Tsukishima. 

Yamaguchi hated it. He hated unpacking in his stupid apartment next to his stupid art school when he knew he couldn’t share it with Tsukishima. He couldn’t come home to guitar music and sarcastic comments and bad movies. To Tsukishima.

At least he had moved away from the hospital. Yamaguchi hated walking past it every day. All the good memories from there had died along with Tsukishima. 

He ripped open the boxes and pulled things out one by one. Music was playing loudly on Tsukishima’s iPod, Akiteru had given it to him before he left the funeral. Their playlist filled the apartment with bittersweet memories as Yamaguchi lined the walls with pictures and drawings. 

He found it at the bottom of his last box. His old sketchpad. He sat down on his windowsill and ran his hand over it. He didn’t want to open it, he didn’t want to unleash the memories. Not yet. 

Tsukishima’s voice rang in his head. _I don’t want you to forget me._

Yamaguchi turned the page and let the tears fall. 

He ran his hand over the drawings of Tsukishima. The drawing of him showing off a fossil. The drawing of him taking a nap next to him. The drawing of him lying in the sand next to him. 

And finally, the drawing of Yamaguchi. It wasn’t the best thing Yamaguchi had drawn. He tried to put as much effort into it as possible, because he thought it was going to go to Tsukishima. His freckles were off, and his hair wasn’t properly textured. He tsked softly at the drawing. His grief made him sloppy that day. 

He moved his hand to the bottom of the page to turn it when he noticed writing at the bottom of the portrait. It was neat, much neater than Yamaguchi’s handwriting. A website URL and password. 

Yamaguchi dropped the pad on the floor and ripped apart his bags to find his laptop. Situating himself on the windowsill again, he typed the URL and password into the search bar.

He let out a sob as Tsukishima’s tired face smiled weakly at him. 

He looked pale, almost blue. The same tubes and wires that he wore during his last week were on his arms and nose. This must have been filmed then. 

Tsukishima cleared his throat and waved slightly. 

“Hey, Yamaguchi?” He inhaled sharply before continuing. “I really fucking hate you, you know that?” 

Yamaguchi laughed in disbelief. Of course Tsukki would say something like that to him even now.

“Before I met you, I was ready for death.” Tsukishima laughed slightly, coughing a bit after it. “I was so ready to die. I had prepared for it my entire life. It’s not like i had much else to do. I made sure I didn't have any attachments on earth. I made sure that no one won’t feel bad for me or mourn me or whatever. Dying was supposed to be simple. You know, painless. 

Tsukishima shook his head. “Then, you came along and messed up whatever was left of my short, miserable life.

“You made me go outside, and as if that wasn’t enough, you made me enjoy it. You made me watch you play volleyball and bake cakes and play video games until 4 am. You made me go to the beach with you and watch the waves with you, you made me relearn the damn guitar for you. You made me fall in love with you and I fucking _hate_ you for it. 

“Because now I don’t want to die. I want to stay with you for the rest of my life. I want to practice volleyball with you and bake with you and play games with you and walk on the beach with you and grow old with you. God, I want to grow old with you so bad. 

“And it’s selfish of me, but part of me doesn’t want you to move on. It's probably a dying person’s insane wish, but I want you to love me forever. It’s impossible, I know, but I can't even stand the thought of you with anyone else.” Tsukishima paused, as if he realized the ridiculousness of his statement and laughed. “I mean, it’s not like I’ll ever have to see that anyways. I'll be dead.” 

Tsukishima stopped smiling. “That’s funny, isn’t it? You’re watching this, and I'm dead right now. You’re mourning me. You know, when a lovely person dies, everyone mourns them. They talk about how the world will be a darker place without their optimism and upbeat attitude and all that. I knew that would never apply to me. and I was fine with that. I didn't want anyone to make a scene about me. I just wanted to pass. Nothing special about it. 

“But Yamaguchi, I want to live now. I want to live so badly.”

Tsukishima inhaled sharply again. “So, promise me one last thing. Do whatever you want with your life. Go to art school, keep baking, keep losing to people at videogames,” Tsukishima laughed at that part, and a sob escaped Yamaguchi's throat. “But please, don’t let me die. Keep drawing me. Keep drawing me until the day you forget my face and my voice and everything about me. Please.”

Yamaguchi was fully crying now. He moved to wipe the tears streaming down his face. His full body was shaking on the small windowsill he was sitting on.

Tsukishima smirked at him from the screen. “I hope you aren’t crying now. That would be lame. I finished the song, by the way. I can barely play it though, it hurts to move nowadays. So, I’m just going to play it here. Hope you don’t mind that you got a studio recording instead of a live concert.” He gave the camera a cheeky grin. 

Yamaguchi removed his head from where they were buried in his knees to look at Tsukishima, who was currently struggling with a guitar in his hands. 

“Well? I kept my promise. I’m playing you your song. Now go keep yours.” 

Yamaguchi watched Tsukishima play his song with a heavy heart. This was it. This was his last memory of Tsukishima. 

Well. If Tsukishima was going to keep his promise. Yamaguchi picked up his sketchpad from the floor and turned to the final page. Looking at the love of his life on the screen, playing him a sweet love song, Yamaguchi put pencil to paper and drew.

__________________

Tsukishima Kei had been dying since he was born, and he was not 100% ok with that. 

He was fine with it at first. death was just as natural as breathing, in his opinion. But then he met Yamaguchi, and he wanted nothing more than to live. 

He wanted to live forever. and he wanted Yamaguchi to live forever with him. He wanted to be there for Yamaguchi’s graduation. He wanted to be there when he showed off his art. He wanted to be there with him at his friends' games, begrudgingly cheering them on. He wanted Yamaguchi to wake up everyday next to him and be happy because he was there with the love of his life. 

So that’s what he would do. He would live. He would live as much as he could, until he died trying.

**Author's Note:**

> aye. that's all she wrote. now that im done with this, i guess i really have no excuse for putting off my english work. fuck. 
> 
> Follow me on my [Twitter](https://twitter.com/WlNTERSMAFUYU) in case you want to bully me or something


End file.
